


The Lost Heiress

by irislim



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Romance, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23889868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irislim/pseuds/irislim
Summary: Disowned by force and by choice, respectively - William and Richard come across a surprise opportunity to benefit from their Fitzwilliam upbringing. Now, if only they can get the stubborn, pretty barmaid to cooperate. A Pride & Prejudice twist on the legend of Princess Anastasia.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lizzie Bennet/William Darcy
Comments: 64
Kudos: 178





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is heavily inspired by the Anastasia legend and movies. Darcy and Fitzwilliam aren't the most principled here (I had to for the story's sake), but I hope you'll love them nonetheless!

The mug of ale landed on the table with a loud thud.

"Did you hear about it?"

William permitted his weary eyes to wander up to his comrade's face. The act they'd pulled today against the unscrupulous merchant had been satisfying – and rewarding – but fatiguing, nonetheless. "The latest throng of tourists from the mainland? There are too many aiming for their pockets."

"No." Richard flopped himself on the adjoining bench, an eager look upon his face. "The papers this morning. Aunt Catherine's notice."

" _That_ Aunt Catherine?" William spat, unimpressed. He hadn't set eyes on that woman since that fateful day eight long, harsh years ago – when the only family he had ever known had gathered in Pemberley to ensure that their false heir had been thoroughly evicted with stripes upon his back and not a penny to his name, despite all of Georgiana's impassioned pleas.

William growled. "What could she want? A man idiotic enough to want Anne's hand in marriage?"

"Anne isn't all that bad," Richard defended, taking a sip from his stained cup. "She's merely had a tough lot in life – not unlike yours."

"She was _still_ Anne de Bourgh, same as she's always been, last I heard." William scoffed, glaring at his emptied mug. "Few can rival our story."

"But aren't we lucky for all the brawns and brains between us?" Richard laughed. Richard always laughed. The man was incorrigibly cheerful, crimes and all. "Few thieves have been as lucky."

"Careful planning could hardly be construed as luck."

"And perfect execution." Richard raised his drink. William smiled at him and mirrored the toast, despite himself.

They had been raised cousins in name, but it was Richard's willingness to desert his own comforts as an earl's son in favor of his fallen friend that had forged their true camaraderie these past eight years.

"So what is this notice you mention in the papers?" William asked, when the hour grew late. Unlike the other travellers who shared this inn for the night, they had no home, no destination – wherever they chose to set their feet, they simply did.

There was no reason to retire early. Tomorrow would come soon enough without one prodding it on.

"She seeks for Cousin Elizabeth again – and offers a large sum for her safe return," Richard replied, all business. "Perhaps Anne's failing health of late has ruffled her sense of urgency once more."

William nodded. It was an unspoken fact that Richard still maintained a small degree of correspondence with his brother, cousins, and former associates. He was a black sheep who was all but disowned – but the Fitzwilliam blood still flowed in his veins. There was great forgiveness for one's blood relatives – and for all who claimed to be.

William drained his second drink at the image of George Darcy II, the son of a steward no longer, ruining Pemberley with his unbridled indulgences. Every reward of every wise choice William had ever made as the heir to Pemberley was now being plundered by his vilest of childhood companions – all thanks to an aging midwife's and a dying nursemaid's claims.

Life was inherently unfair.

"She promises to host anyone able to bring her Elizabeth," Richard continued, perhaps oblivious to William's private musings. "Goodness, how Rosings will be overrun."

"And perhaps bring more suitors along for Anne?" William smirked.

"I – no – I hope – " Richard cut himself short. The former military man suddenly began to study his drink.

William's smirk only grew. He leaned forward upon the table and chose to take pity on his slightly-flushing friend. "I see the great lady still holds out hope that her daughter lives."

"There was never a body." Richard recovered quickly.

"Nor any sign of her survival."

"One must admit the occurrence was sudden – one day in Hyde Park and she was gone."

William nodded silently. The irony of the situation weighed fully upon him.

"It is amusing, is it not? The selfsame family manages to be fully anxious to be rid of one heir and just as anxious to locate and reclaim another."

Richard clapped him on the shoulder, a comforting smile on his boyish face. "But none of them get to have the adventures we do."

* * *

"To another day, another heist!" Richard raised his glass triumphantly another week later.

William grinned as he concurred.

The two accomplices finished their second round of victory drinks with a hearty dose of self-congratulations. Their efforts today had been duly rewarded, and their coffers were now padded with the hefty pouches the tipsy travellers had so conveniently left behind.

"Many a letters shall be sent tonight." Richard smiled.

"Your attachment to your letters knows no bounds." William shook his head, though not unkindly. Richard had always been a social creature, through and through. Their nearly nomadic lifestyle rendered any familial attachments particularly precious, he supposed. And it was no secret to William that his partner harbored a _tendre_ for Anne and her quiet spirit. "I shall gladly spend any newfound fortune on things one can taste and savor."

"You lie." Richard grinned. "Whatever you do not carry on your person shall go to Georgiana forthwith."

William's smile dwindled. The facts stated that Georgiana was no more his sister than Richard was his cousin – but there was no one in the world who mattered more to him.

How could he not care – when he had borne firsthand witness to her multiple abuses? Her sweet spirit, such a solace to him during George and Anne Darcy's deaths, now served as little more than fodder for the brutish behavior of the man who now lived as her brother.

"She deserves it – and more." William sighed.

"Of course," Richard agreed.

Unwilling to let dark thoughts ruin a day of great success, William called for more beverages to be brought to their table. The raucous crowd in the godforsaken tavern cheered their approval.

"You wish for some company, sir?" The owner of the place approached, fat belly bulging. He raised a filthy finger towards the three young women hustling about the place. "We ain't got many pickin's, but each one's great, you know."

William frowned, fists tightening and fury rising, when Richard spoke, "No, thank you, good sir. But a healthy round of drinks would do us good."

William shut his eyes tightly, willing the images of a desperate, pleading Georgiana to go away.

In the rare letters he received from her these days – coursed through Richard's name – he felt her turmoil between the lines, the ache and despair.

But there was nothing he could do beyond sending her whatever earnings he could spare from his unholy endeavors. In his darkest hours, he found light in the audacious hope that he could one day make enough, swindle enough, to create a safe haven for the lovely, ill-used Georgiana.

But, even then, society would never forgive an heiress who chose to find residence with a disowned, usurped, thieving relative.

"We train 'em good, sir," the pompous master of the house insisted just as William re-opened his eyes. "One fer each of you, sirs."

As if instructed, two of the three women in the room turned to give William and Richard what could easily be construed as flirtatious – nay, seductive – looks. The way they shook their bosoms certainly left no intent hidden.

Richard, once more, politely refused the master – who then, with a disappointed sigh, moved on to sell his goods to other patrons.

William found his eyes drawn to the one barmaid who had refused to indulge in her master's selling of her supposed goods. Her dark hair was pinned sensibly back, the curves of her figure draped in the plainest of garments. She moved purposely and strongly, focused on the work of rendering food and cleaning tables. The hardened scowl on her face contrasted greatly with the teasing smiles the other two women displayed.

William found some solace, as he drained his next drink, that his former sister was at least fortunate enough to avoid the fates of these three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I must state from the start that this story is not for those who cannot stomach cousin pairings. I must reiterate that I do not condone consanguinity in modern marriages, but I do not shy away from the fact that it was a widespread practice both in the East and West back then. If this is dealbreaker for you, please do not follow this story. If it is not a dealbreaker, I hope you will enjoy the rest of this adaptation!


	2. Chapter 2

William sat upon the wooden bench, his elbows propped upon the table's surface. The food on his plate remained untouched, his appetite having vanished since he'd read the contents of the latest letter.

"And must I ask the master of the house for another bounty for you?" Richard quipped when he had finished all the victuals on his own generous, heaping plate.

William met his partner's eye with a heavy heart.

"Georgiana wrote again."

"I believe I was the one who delivered your correspondence."

"Yes." Even Richard's usual cheer was not enough to buoy his mood today. William sighed.

"Is she well?" Richard's frown displayed genuine concern.

"George has cut her off from everything he could legally attempt." William clenched his fist upon the wooden table. "Her life appears to be one of a lady - though her reality leaned much closer to the existence experienced by a slave."

"I am sorry, Will. Who would have thought - "

"And, almost daily," William lamented, grief in his chest, "George threatens to take claims upon her body."

"But he is her brother!"

"Indeed." William sighed harshly. "Though God knows his designs upon her have never been brotherly."

"I - if only we could - " Richard's own words drifted. Georgiana's letter had arrived mere hours ago and, already, William's day felt inconceivably dark.

For another few minutes, the two men stewed in silence.

The sound of two mugs of fluid landing upon their table roused William from his trance.

"Mr. Beston says they're yours," the maid declared, her diction surprisingly clear.

William nodded his thanks at the owner of the dingy establishment, who sneered in an oddly friendly way from his station by the counting table.

"Thank you, miss," Richard greeted with a smile.

The barmaid - a young lady, really - nodded and retreated.

It was then that the similarity struck William - and took such a strong grip upon his mind that he could no longer consider any other alternative.

"We can save Georgiana," William declared.

"I know it to be your express desire," Richard replied.

"No, not merely a desire." William gripped his friend by the arm. His determination grew by the minute. "George uses the power he wields as a relation to the Fitzwilliam clan to withhold proper treatment from Georgiana. We shall use the wealth of the selfsame people to bestow her with comfort."

"You wish to rob my father?" Richard smirked. "I suppose that could be managed."

"I would not endanger you so, no." William's mind wandered to how easily the facts aligned. They seldom remained in one tavern for more than two days. It could only be providence that led them to tarry here for three entire days (Providence, of course, having offered a slew of the gullible devout making a pilgrimage to the nearby parish and freely purchasing the 'elixirs' William and Richard charmingly peddled to them). "They shall give us the money willingly."

"Ah, now you make little sense."

"The reward Lady Catherine posted - it was substantial, was it not?"

Richard's frown slowly dawned into understanding. "Her promise to those who could find Cousin Elizabeth?"

William nodded.

Then, he directed Richard's gaze to the maid who now scrubbed the counters by the wall. Her brown hair was tied back, her figure clothed in faded, dirty rags. But, even then, there was an air of knowledge to her, a quickness of movement and softness of curves that could easily be interpreted as privilege.

"One ought not to look a gift horse in the mouth," William prodded. "The odds are for us. And who better to prepare a woman to prove herself a lady than two men who had been raised around them?"

"Goodness, Will," Richard declared, a minute hence, "your proposal is bizarre - but perhaps one of your most brilliant yet."

* * *

They waited for a timely discussion and did not approach the barmaid until the other travellers, drunken and rowdy, had mostly retired to their rooms that night - two of those rooms with squealing female company in tow.

They had agreed that Richard, being the more affable, was best suited to approach the young woman.

Surprisingly, she thwarted his attempts to speak.

"Madam, if you would but listen," Richard pleaded when she'd spurned his quest for conversation a second time.

"I have nothing to offer you, sir," she spoke hurriedly, rushing from table to table to clear the remaining plates and cups. "Maria and Jenny have settled for the night."

"We are not attempting to - sample your wares, miss," Richard scrambled, in a rather undignified manner.

The barmaid huffed, stopping for one short moment. "I most certainly hope not, good sir."

"We seek to be your partners - in an endeavor - "

The words 'partner' and 'endeavor' seemed only to drive her into further agitation - and she nearly fled the common room altogether.

"Miss! Please - grant me a moment," William stood and called.

To his relief, the woman's movement lulled.

"I admire you for your choices, very much," William took care to speak slowly, calmly, as if conversing with a frightened child. "We do shall not attempt to dissuade you from your principles, madam."

Gradually, the young woman turned.

Her masters had long retired. Only the three of them remained.

It was the best time to lay out their audacious plan.

"If you would allow me, miss," William sat himself down slowly as he spoke, "I have a task to offer you - a task I believe would bring us all wealth - without requiring you to sacrifice yourself as your master often urges you to."

He watched carefully as both Richard and their tentative recruit took seats of their own.

"May I know how we may address you?"

"Lizzy," she said shortly.

"Miss Lizzy it is," William replied. She did not seem to object, and he continued. "If you would spare us a few moments of your time - my friend here can furbish you with the details of our plan."

"A plan that includes me," said she.

"It would be best if we could share this undertaking, yes."

"Why would you need me?"

William paused, surprised at her curiosity. Was she not sufficiently glad that he approached her with a potential source of income that did not require her to betray her body?

For one quick second, he permitted his eyes to roam over the body she guarded so fiercely. She was - womanly - and a fine dress would frame her figure well.

Instantly, she began to withdrew.

"Sir, if you plan only to stare at my person, I fear I cannot trust you to - "

"No, not at all," Richard interjected. "I apologize for our silence."

Miss Lizzy did not relax, but she did remain seated at the neighboring table she had previously chosen.

William shared a look with Richard - and nodded.

"Miss Lizzy," Richard began, smiling and charming once more. "We believe there is a chance you may be able to bring a grieving family great joy."

William breathed a sigh of relief when they found her willing to listen to the entire tale.

* * *

"And never to return?" She cried, when the reality of what the two men were asking of her was re-examined in the light of day. She had listened to their story last night, and she had ached in her heart for this lady they described who desperately needed the money to break free of her captor.

What they were asking now - dressed as they were for the road - sounded entirely different.

"If Lady Catherine were to be convinced that you are her daughter, then she would most certainly wish for you to stay with her," the man with the lighter hair - Mr. Fitz, she believed - attempted to explain. "You will lack for nothing, and the family would ensure you find yourself well-married."

She clutched thoughtfully at the meager belongings in her arms. God forbid she find herself in need of more clothes on the road. Village stores never did treat travellers fairly.

"And never return?" She repeated.

"Yes, that is, of course, a part of the plan," Mr. Fitz patiently replied. He looked puzzled, as if he did not understand the words she was saying.

"I learn to act like this - lost young lady," Lizzy reiterated their plan, "and we would gain the reward money if they believe my portrayal."

"Yes."

"And if they do not?"

"Then my friend and I would compensate you duly for your time," Mr. Fitz explained. The sun began to break the horizon. "We would feed you and provide for your every need during the course of this journey."

"And could I return?"

"Return - here?"

Lizzy nodded. She _needed_ to know what possibilities were involved in this scheme.

"Why would you - indeed, I must say, I do not understand - "

"Why would you even wish to return to this hell hole, madam?" The other man demanded, frowning.

Mr. Wicks, though more handsome, was clearly less kind than Mr. Fitz.

Lizzy herself frowned, considering for a moment just how much to reveal to her new strange bedfellows.

"Regardless of the result of our scheme, you shall be furbished with a sum of your own. You need not return," Mr. Fitz attempted to explain once more.

"But I must," Lizzy blurted.

"You - _must_?"

"I must remain where I - " Lizzy pondered again the knowledge that she had shared with no other soul outside of her beastly masters. But the sun rose higher by the minute. Soon, her note would be found - and Mr. and Mrs. Beston's unkind interest would be kindled. She swallowed hoarsely, shifting in her old dress. She nearly missed the way both gentlemen's eyes were briefly drawn to where a hole had cut through the fabric on the side of her chest. She crossed her arms. "I am no orphan. My family left me to the Bestons' care when I a child. I wait here for my family to return for me."

"Your family - you have - " Now it was Mr. Fitz's turn to frown. "Have you considered the possibility that they perhaps - would not come?"

"My family would _surely_ come for me!"

"Or perhaps they merely are - incapacitated from coming."

"My stockings were embroidered," Lizzy felt an urge to defend herself, "My family had means. They will come - shall surely come."

Facing two incredulous gazes, Lizzy reached into her gathered belongings to procure the old stocking she had treasured through all her difficult years.

"Mrs. Beston owns the other one. I led her to believe I had ruined this." She turned the well-worn garment to the correct side. "Here - you see. The item has been embroidered with an 'E' and a 'B.' I was _somebody's_ daughter - once."

Slowly, the two men's faces changed.

On Mr. Fitz, the puzzlement only seemed to grow. For Mr. Wicks, a calmness seemed to take over him.

"Perhaps Lady Catherine _is_ your family, Miss Lizzy," Mr. Wicks spoke in a deep, confident voice.

Lizzy paused at the thought.

"Why would you not take this chance to discover if she is?"

The sense in his words slowly took root in Lizzy's mind.

Was there a chance - however remote - that this unknown lady's long lost daughter and the little girl who had endured harsh treatment again and again in hopes of her seeing her returning family be one and the same?

"If you are - then you shall be restored to the family and life that you have long waited for," Mr. Wicks explained, gradually moving towards her as he spoke. "If you are not - you shall earn a pretty sum and be free to return here as you wait for your true family."

Lizzy blinked, the thought that she had everything to win and nothing to lose in this arrangement began to impress itself upon her.

"Surely, the chance is worth taking?" asked Mr. Wicks in his low, magnetic voice.

Lizzy found herself nodding. "Very well. Let us go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter showed some progress!


	3. Chapter 3

"I know you speak remarkably well, Miss Lizzy, but you _must_ learn to speak of proper _topics_ and _thoughts_ ," Richard instructed - with admirable patience, in William's opinion.

The woman huffed, her shoulders clearly slouching as she leaned back against the tree trunk. William wished for a moment that he had been firmer with her all along.

With a roll of his eyes, William focused on soothing his horse. With every mile they travelled, Rosings Park and its uncertain potential loomed ever closer. The attempts at pruning Miss Lizzy for her momentous interview had begun gently at first - but had, out of necessity, grown ever more frequent with each passing day.

It had been five whole days since they'd removed her from the Bestons' property, and only now - after taking the most roundabout path they could to throw off any possible pursuit - do they dare to pursue a straighter path towards Kent.

It was quite unfortunate that any attempts to make Miss Lizzy act like a credible Elizabeth de Bourgh were being quite roundabout in yielding results as well.

"Lady Catherine would be questioning you thoroughly," on the other side of the clearing, Richard persisted with their stubborn pupil, "she would observe your answers to her queries as well as any remarks you may make besides. Even as a child, Elizabeth had always been kind, and you truly ought not to refer to any unknown relatives as brutes, you see."

"But all the ways you describe them to be do not make them out to be quite nice!" Miss Lizzy protested with a grand, unforgiving pout.

William expected to be appalled at her utter defiance.

Instead, the image of a frowning Richard and a sullen Miss Lizzy only transported him to memories he had long ignored.

If he had known his childhood as Fitzwilliam Darcy would be so cruelly terminated - if he had known the relatives he possessed then were not meant to be his family forever - then perhaps there were things he would have addressed in a different manner.

Perhaps, when Father bemoaned the duties of being master of Pemberley, he would not have treated his complaints with nonchalance. Perhaps, when His Grace the Earl of Matlock introduced him to family acquaintances in London, he would not have considered the audiences so tedious and dull.

Perhaps, whenever little Cousin Elizabeth cried about her mother, he would have more gladly shared his hiding place behind the Rosings library with her.

Nostalgia, however, was too costly a luxury for thieves - and William sighed away the thoughts away.

"How _can_ anyone have _so many_ rules and relatives?" Miss Lizzy lamented as William made his way over to join his companions. Soon, they would have to find an inn for the night once more. "One could hardly be expected to live this way."

"Proper manners are to be expected, Miss Lizzy," Richard rebuffed. "We seek to _help_ you."

"I fail to understand how having to wait for the right person and right silverware and right time for _eating_ could be considered _helping_ me," she spoke with great emphasis, as she was wont to do. "Supper was excruciating last night."

William steeled himself for yet another quarrel.

"We strive only to better you, madam," Richard explained, his voice finally beginning to edge on impatience. "Your prospects shall only grow from your education."

"And we are feeding you - are we not?" William interrupted, his arms folded. The impetuousness in Miss Lizzy's captivating eyes hardened into a clear dislike as she swiveled her head to look at him. "We do not starve you - or hurt you - or spit at you as I believe your Mr. Beston often did. We do not treat you quite as ill as you have been treated."

Her defiant spirit reigned supreme, even as she admitted that his words were true.

"We are helping you to find your family - and all these trappings shall only secure you in their favor." William felt her acquiescence even as he spoke. "We do not know how long Lady Catherine shall persist in her search. It would work to the best of all our interests if you take to heart everything that Richard tells you."

Her sigh was loud, affected, and magnificent. "Very well."

* * *

"Must you eat so quickly?"

"Wait for host to ask _first_!"

"That is - not becoming. Choose a different shade."

"One rides a horse _this_ way, Miss Lizzy."

"Miss Lizzy, you do not seem to understand. Let me begin once more."

Lizzy sighed, quite decidedly, as she plopped herself upon the largest chair in the sitting room.

Their journey towards Kent drew closer to its end by the hour, and her two companions had been increasing their instructions to an intolerable degree in the past few days. Each attempt to prune her behavior reached from dawn to dusk - and quite often past dusk as well.

Still, she struggled.

And even Mr. Fitz, for all his patience, had begun to roll his eyes at her failures.

She'd always believed herself a fast learner. The Bestons would not have kept her all those years, even with her refusal to share the travellers' beds, if it were not for her genuine helpfulness.

But _these_ two men were pushing her to her very limits.

For a quick, quiet moment, Lizzy contemplated that perhaps she _was_ being ungrateful. Mr. Wicks and Mr. Fitz had treated her well enough - providing her a room of her own at every inn they stopped. They never leered like the other men did, though Mr. Fitz did compliment her on her appearance when she first donned a new dress.

It was Mr. Wicks who was impossible to impress.

A knock at the door preceded the two men's entrance. Mr. Fitz, as usual, was smiling - and Mr. Wicks' face completely blank.

"Are you ready, Miss Lizzy?"

Lizzy sighed, loudly, but took to her feet nonetheless.

"The dresses are in the bedroom," she reported. "I shall wear them now."

At the two men's approving nods, she took to the attached chamber and surveyed once more the collection of clothes that the seamstress had delivered this morning. They had tarried in this village for two days just to address the matter of her wardrobe. She could not refuse to try on these strange garments now.

Her first few attempts at displaying her attire to the two men who had paid for these clothes resulted in their mild approval. Once, she thought she even saw Mr. Wicks' harsh demeanor melt into a quick, appreciative smile.

He was even more handsome when he did smile.

Soon, she grew accustomed to quickly trading one ensemble for another, and the confidence in her stride and gait grew. Every few minutes, she would march into the sitting room with a lilt and a swirl, attired in a new dress. Mr. Fitz would smile, nod, and perhaps even applaud. Mr. Wicks would look intently at her, slowly, as if he worked hard to appraise the value of their purchase - and finally give a small, approving nod.

The fittings went by smoothly - until the last gown.

"Miss Lizzy, is everything alright?" Mr. Fitz's voice came through the door when she had struggled for nearly a quarter of an hour.

"Ye - yes." She huffed, just before she flung her arms down in frustration.

 _How_ was one supposed to dress oneself like this?

"I may need - assistance," she admitted feebly, a minute later, as she peeked through the bedroom door.

"Miss Lizzy?" Mr. Fitz was everything friendly.

Carefully, she slipped through the door, her hands pressing the fabric firmly against her body. Her skirts swished around her. She liked the gown. The light green shade lent her happiness.

It was the - form, the style - that rendered the garment impractical.

"The buttons are - difficult," she mumbled, hesitating before she met each man in the eye.

Mr. Fitz looked puzzled.

Mr. Wicks - the immovably serious Mr. William Wicks - blushed to the roots of his hair.

Mr. Fitz began, "What buttons could you possibly - "

"You need - that is, I - one must - " Mr. Wicks interrupted only to trail off.

Lizzy stayed where she stood, still supporting her gown. It did _seem_ as if Mr. Wicks understood.

"Will, what do you mean? What must one do with - " Mr. Fitz turned to look at his friend as he spoke, stopping only when the former gestured towards Lizzy's exposed back.

Lizzy felt herself blushing too.

"I suppose we could - pack this?" She offered.

As if suddenly waking, Mr. Fitz stood abruptly straight with wide, smiling eyes. "No, no, Miss Lizzy. We _must_ surely make sure that the gown fits you properly."

She shuffled.

"I can ask for a maid from the master," said Mr. Wicks. He began to move towards the door. "Perhaps they can spare for just one evening - "

"Nonsense!" Mr. Fitz declared. Then, with immediate and surprising strength, he grabbed Mr. Wicks by the arm and shoved him unceremoniously towards Lizzy. "William will help you!"

It took perhaps an entire minute for Mr. Wicks, blush and all, to begin to attempt to assist her.

Never would Lizzy forget the feeling of his trembling fingertips as he buttoned up her gown - nor the shyness on his face that mingled with a silent adoration when she finally turned to face him.

* * *

" _Feel_ the rhythm, Miss Lizzy. Will, you _must_ stop being a tree!"

William grumbled blatantly at Richard's instructions.

To direct a dance was easy, unfairly so. What had Richard done the entire afternoon but tell him how to step and how to move across the clearing that was their makeshift dance floor? It was _he_ \- the unfortunate William Wicks - who had been tasked to mold Miss Lizzy's movements to a satisfactory level.

She had never danced - that much was evident.

But her lack of skill did not diminish her ability to fill her nice, new gown with womanly curves - and nor did it remove any of her innate magnetism when she assumed any pose, so close to his person, and met his eye.

It was almost ludicrous to think of this woman as Cousin Elizabeth - who had not a single bone of charisma to inherit from her father or mother or older sister.

The steps were new to Miss Lizzy, but oh did she dance each one with vigor.

"One, two, three! One, two, three!" Richard commanded as he clapped.

Of course, only a person as mischievous as Richard would _insist_ they teach her the waltz.

"William, you are a proper dancer, aren't you? Stop dancing as if you march!" Richard's reprimand had a teasing undertone.

It annoyed William very much.

"Then perhaps _you_ ought to teach her!" William grumbled, letting go of their protégé, to face his intensely aggravating friend. "She does not know how to dance a single step! Do not fault _me_ for our lack of success."

Richard gestured to the ankle he had supposedly twisted in last night's heist and moved his shoulders as if there was nothing he could do to ameliorate the circumstances.

It was Miss Lizzy who surprised William with the force of her response.

"Is it so very horrid to dance with me, _William_?" She demanded, fists planted on her hips. Her chosen action thrust her chest further into view, and William groaned.

"I meant no harm, Miss Lizzy," he began.

"No harm to be so grumpy whenever you are forced into my company?" She started to wail. "Truly, you must believe me for certain to be this lost Miss de Bourgh for you to tolerate my company for this many days."

"Miss Lizzy - "

"You demean everything I wear, do, or say. You lament over my lack of manners. How could I possibly have _any_ value to you that you should be so careful to _mean no harm_!"

"Miss Lizzy!"

"Your friend Richard is much kinder," her voice softened slightly. William felt his chest tighten. "Could you not spare the slightest bit of gentleness for a woman who has given herself over to your protection?"

William pondered the weight of her words.

"I know my charms - if there are any - do not match those of the posh ladies you wish for me to prove myself to be," she whispered now, sounding almost pained. "But there is no need to be demeaning, sir."

What William said next came as a surprise, particularly to himself. "Your charm does not equal theirs, Miss Lizzy - because they surpass them."

Lizzy lifted her eyes abruptly - locking her gaze with his.

He watched as she swallowed slowly.

"Shall we attempt that waltz again?" Richard's voice sounded hollow and far away.

They complied without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the chapter managed to be both fun and a little dramatic!


	4. Chapter 4

_Dear William,_

_Please do not allow your fears for my reputation to prevent you from writing. Your correspondence remains one of the few remaining joys of my life. George has no reason to publish the fact that I exchange letters with a single man. I could easily ruin him in turn by publishing the heinous things he threatens to do to me. The servants shall bear ample witness._

_Indulge me, William, and tell me instead of your adventures. Have you met a fair lady somewhere, perhaps? Have you encountered any pirates who regale you with their swashbuckling tales? Anne writes often to me, but her stories, despite her every effort, remain pallid and stale. There is only so much that Aunt Catherine permits her to do. I rely wholly on you to amuse my mind with the stirring tales of your fascinating undertakings._

_Thank you, always, for remaining a brother to me._

_Sincerely,  
Georgiana Darcy_

William paused to blink a stray tear from his eye. He knew, too well, what unnamable things George often threatened to do to Georgiana's soul and body. It was his belief, in fact, that George _did_ carry out many of his threats - and it was only the innate, abundant kindness of Georgiana that spared him the horrid details of his misdemeanors.

He _had_ to succeed in claiming Lady Catherine's reward. He _had_ to find a safe place for Georgiana to hide from the monster that is George Darcy, dictator of Pemberley.

"She is pretty, though perhaps not many could tell - what with her endless blankets," Richard's voice floated in from the adjoining sitting room. This inn was their final stop before Rosings. The two men had agreed that it was best to let Miss Lizzy rest. She needed her wits about her for the interview tomorrow. "It is a pity that the only society she ever knows is family and her parade of doctors. Her insights find no audience."

It was easy for William to realize what occupied Richard's consciousness at the moment - or _who_ occupied it, most hours of the day.

Needing to break free from the melancholy mood that Georgiana's letter had placed him, William stepped out to join his two travelling companions.

"Her grey eyes carry a subtle intelligence," Richard continued to wax poetic over Anne de Bourgh, as William took a seat beside him. "It was almost as if she knew your secrets and promised to keep them for you."

"She sounds fascinating," Miss Lizzy responded, an almost wistful smile on her face.

"I have you to thank, madam, for granting me reason to visit my dear Cousin Anne once more." Richard beamed at their ward. Miss Lizzy smiled back brightly in return.

William knew, clearly, that Richard's heart had long belonged to quiet, feeble Anne.

What he suddenly began to wonder now - was where _Miss Lizzy's_ heart lay.

"I would be glad to meet her," the lady currently pervading William's mind spoke happily with Richard.

"I believe you two shall get along famously." Richard's smile never faltered. The two interlocutors appeared entirely satisfied with each other's company.

William, for once, found his own serenity stifling.

So he stood instead.

"I believe we can partake of supper now," he said with as little fanfare as he could, after clearing his throat.

The two others in the room turned towards him, still smiling.

"One last supper." Richard chuckled as he stood.

The realization that if they were to succeed - this truly _would_ be his last supper in the company of these two grinning fools made William uncomfortable.

He was the first to take a seat downstairs.

* * *

The men tried to maintain good humor over supper. They laughed of their impending success, boasting in turn of the things each of them had taught Lizzy to do. They drank, though not as much as the Bestons' guests tended to. Even Lizzy imbibed her own minimal share of rum. The entire meal appeared very much to be a celebration of a difficult task finally coming to an end.

But Lizzy felt, keenly, the underlying tension in the room.

Richard's smiles barely reached his eyes. William, despite attentively offering her as much food as she wished to have, never met her eye once.

Lizzy wondered if the two comrades were unsure of her ability to convince this Lady Catherine come tomorrow - or if they simply disliked the inn, the food, or the hour.

She herself felt melancholic for an entirely different reason - and it was a reason she feared to dwell upon.

How foolish was it for a woman who was clearly a mere tool for two wandering thieves to develop an attachment to her co-conspirators? How misguided could she be to wish - even hope - that she meant something to these two men who would be gone from her life forever, regardless of what the results proved to be?

"Miss Lizzy," came William's voice, breaking through the sparse murmurs amongst the four tables, "may I rehearse certain queries with you one more time?"

Richard mentioned that it was perhaps good to review once again the family facts they had taught her - but he was equally quick to declare himself too tired and to excuse himself for the night.

His retreat left Lizzy alone with William - and his deep, piercing eyes.

"I - suppose we should," she answered, rather belatedly.

He nodded and rose. She took his arm when he offered it, and he led them directly to the clearing behind the inn.

They did not wander far, staying within reach of the simple dwelling's back door. There was no reason for anyone to suspect any personal relationship between them. He was here as her teacher, she as his loyal pupil.

She had no reason to harbor hope that he had asked for her company to express that he -

"May I have this dance, Miss Elizabeth?" He met her eyes - his face solemn, his hand outstretched.

She gaped at him openly for half a minute.

Then she closed her mouth, lifted her hand, and nodded.

He drew her close this time, so different in demeanor from that time he had been tasked to teach her the ballroom's many intricate steps. He skipped every polite dance there was to move her directly into a waltz. She followed his lead - and soon began to close her eyes as the sweeping steps twirled them in fluid circles around the lamp-lit clearing.

She pressed herself closer, allowing herself the indulgence and comfort of his intriguing proximity. He responded by pulling her closer, and closer, with every step.

She did not know how long they danced.

But the stillness was so strong when they stopped, that every soul inside the inn was probably already deep in sleep for the night.

What a long night tonight would be!

They stood close even after they stopped dancing - his face hovering inches from hers. Her shallow breaths twisted in grey, disappearing wisps between them.

"Lizzy," he whispered.

"William."

He leaned lower, towards her. She closed her eyes, ready for his lips to meet hers.

She had never kissed a man on the lips. Some of the servants boys had tried to kiss her on the cheek before - but she had never been one to start or share a kiss.

Perhaps now she would know what Mrs. Beston was always snapping about.

But the kiss never came.

"Goodnight, Lizzy." He spoke against her brow. "You dance very well."

She nodded, unable to speak. She kept her stinging eyes downwards the entire way back to her room.

Neither of them said another word.

* * *

"Ah, see - even now, she is looking out for me." Richard beamed from his saddle.

William glanced haphazardly towards the part of the house that he knew overlooked the majority of Rosings Park's property. The upstairs window framed the vague figure of a lady in pale pink. The lady - tragically, indubitably Anne de Bourgh - did appear as if she was straining to identify the approaching travellers.

"My darling waits for me," Richard mused happily.

William sighed, too distracted by thoughts of his own budding feelings to offer any sort of witty response.

Inside the carriage beside him, dressed in the finest dress they could afford her, Lizzy sat alone. William wanted, keenly, to accompany her. But his diminished status in the Fitzwilliam clan would sully any chances she had of convincing Lady Catherine of her pedigree if she had arrived in William's company - and that fact was an indulgence their fragile plans could not afford.

Now he wished - far too belatedly - that he had bid her farewell in a much kinder, truer way last night.

"Perhaps, with Aunt Catherine diverted, Anne and I may steal a happy quiet moment or two," Richard said before chuckling very loudly, utterly lost in his own reveries, just as they came around the final bend.

Young love had a strange, mystical, and powerful potency. In its presence, even the strongest of men grew as silly as a twelve-year-old child. Richard was living evidence.

Under his breath, William sighed.

How was it that he both pitied and envied his friend over the nauseating certainty he had over his own heart - and the heart of his beloved?

Richard and Anne cared deeply for each other, and their devotion had remained constant through every trial and storm.

And William knew, though Richard never stated it plainly, that the miraculous return of the much-favored Elizabeth de Bourgh would allow Anne to finally free herself from her mother's tight reins. And with a sister to spare, perhaps Anne may finally be allowed to wed whomever she wanted - even if it were an estranged and ridiculous cousin.

William's stake in this plot was personal; Richard's even more so.

Eventually, the carriage and its two accompanying guards drew up the entrance to Rosings. They had sent word ahead of their arrival. William found some hope that at least the door had not been barred for them.

There was a great chance that Lady Catherine _did_ believe they had possibly found her daughter.

"Mr. William Wicks, Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam, Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh," the footman announced inside the drawing room while the three accomplices stood outside in the hall.

It was the first time any of the three of them heard of Lizzy being referred to as the rightful Miss de Bourgh - and the simple fact set a weight upon William's heart that he found impossible to lift.

If they succeeded, she would be restored as the elegant heiress to all of Rosings Park. She would be dressed to perfection and heralded to all of London society. Endless suitors would line at her door. If they failed, she would be free to return to her own life, taking with her all and any item or knowledge they had come to bestow upon her.

No matter what happened inside the drawing room today, he was about to lose the intoxicating woman beside him forever.

"Let them enter," came Lady Catherine's voice - haughty as ever, though vulnerable in its undertones.

"Shall we?" Richard asked, a grin on his face. He took it all as a grand adventure - or, at least, appeared to be doing so. The way he gestured towards the entrance was most certainly exaggerated.

William steeled himself, a struggling worshipper before his heathen altar. He did not wish to let go; he could not bear to let go. Yet, sacrifice he must so that they may all -

"Wish me luck!"

Within the span of a heartbeat, Lizzy turned to face him, lifted herself by way of her hands on his shoulders, kissed him firmly on the cheek, dropped back down, smiled - and trailed Richard into the room.

It took William an entire half minute to find the presence of mind enough to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may notice, this story really is a bit of a fantasy. Nothing is realistic, but I hope everything is a little bit of fun!


	5. Chapter 5

The questioning began with little preamble.

After Richard drained every last drop of his charm in presenting the various reasons why they believed Lizzy was the one and only lost Elizabeth de Bourgh, Lady Catherine nodded wordlessly and summoned the person who was to proceed with the interview.

Through it all, William could not help feel that Lady Catherine had been keenly altered in the years since he'd seen her last.

She still filled the room with her commanding presence. Her style of clothing and preferred seat in the room was the same as the last time William had been admitted to Rosings.

But there was a desperation to her - a dullness that perhaps resulted from years of disappointment.

He and Richard could not have been the first to try to convince her they had found the rightful Miss de Bourgh. The lady had probably undergone a vast amount of hope and loss before today.

For the first time in his life, William almost felt sympathy for Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

"So, Miss de Bourgh," the summoned lady spoke with a kindly tone. Lizzy seemed to relax in her presence. "We are very glad that your cousin Mr. Fitzwilliam has brought you here."

Lizzy smiled, uncharacteristically demurely, and nodded.

Once again, William's part in the endeavor was entirely overlooked - but it was nothing new to him.

"My name is Mrs. Hudson. I used to work for the de Bourgh family many years ago," the woman continued.

The name was familiar. William tried to recall where he might have encountered her before. She was dressed properly - not quite as a lady, but neither as a servant. Her smile was youthful, though the lines of her face betrayed her as being at least forty years of age.

"Could you tell me, madam, how you are related to Mr. Fitzwilliam here?" she asked Lizzy.

"He is the second son of my mother's brother," Lizzy replied dutifully. Her eyes strayed to Lady Catherine ever so often, but her voice remained calm. "His brother is the Viscount and his father the Earl of Matlock."

"Very good." Mrs. Hudson smiled.

Mrs. Hudson - slowly, William remembered. She tended to Elizabeth and Anne before, when they were children. She would often watch over the many cousins whenever the family gathered at Rosings.

Perhaps it was the discovery of this woman that caused Lady Catherine to renew her search.

"How did you come to meet him?" asked Mrs. Hudson.

"My Cousin Richard found me when he was traveling north of London. I was under the care of a Mr. and Mrs. Beston," Lizzy replied.

"Were they the ones who took you?"

"I had been taken by a group of thieves. They sold me to the Bestons."

"Why have you not come home, all these years?"

"I was unaware that I was wanted."

It was not a wholly honest reply, but it was exactly as they had taught her.

For the ensuing hour, William watched with nerves and fascination as Lizzy fielded question after question over her supposed childhood. As the number of inquiries grew, so did her ease. In a gradual and beautiful transformation, Lizzy's pensive, stilted frame softened into a gentle, cheerful demeanor. Eventually, she began to smile - and, once, even laugh.

It was the Lizzy he had discovered in a dingy tavern - all strength and determination. And she was, simultaneously, the Lizzy he had fallen desperately in love with - vivacious, intelligent, and firm.

Question after question came. She offered answer after answer, her head held confidently high.

"You are wonderful, Miss de Bourgh," said Mrs. Hudson - after the thirtieth query. "I see you must have very strong memories of your young life here in Rosings."

Lizzy smiled. Her smile was brilliant.

"I just have one more thing to ask."

William watched as Lizzy looked directly at Mrs. Hudson, almost as if she was excited to be put to the test. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Whenever you were angry at your mother - where would you hide?"

The realization gripped William like a vice. Her hiding place - was _his_ hiding place. He was the one who had always hidden behind those shelves. He was the one who welcomed his crying little cousin into his sanctuary. He never taught her this fact, because he never thought that the adults knew.

Here she was - having successfully overcome a myriad of difficult questions - only to fail a simple one, because he had neglected to tell her.

William closed his eyes, ready for the past month's work to fall apart.

"Behind the library," said Lizzy. William turned towards her in surprise. "I - I followed Cousin Fitzwilliam one day, and found where he was hiding."

Lizzy was speaking each word slowly, as if piecing together a distant memory.

"He - he was unhappy with me at first for having followed him - but he - he showed me the place between the large shelf and the wall. He called it his sanctuary." Lizzy looked up. Her eyes sparkled, perhaps with a hint of tears. "I remember - the hallways and the doors. I started hiding there even after he'd left. It became my sanctuary too."

To perhaps everyone's surprise, she looked away from Mrs. Hudson - and to William behind her.

"He told me it was alright - that any problems now would be gone by tomorrow. He told me I was welcome there, whenever I wanted."

By the time she finished speaking, William's heart was caught in his throat, nearly choking him. Here she was, splendid and magnificent, a flower in full bloom - and he was about to lose her forever.

Mrs. Hudson stood, a spring in her step. "Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh. Rosings welcomes you home!"

At the declaration, every person in the room moved forward to congratulate Lizzy and Lady Catherine.

A new source of strength seemed to infuse Lady Catherine's movements - and she smiled as she opened her arms to her child. Lizzy hugged back her mother, sniffles escaping them both. Anne was brought in, who joined in the embrace. Richard stood by the side, pride on his face.

And amidst all the commotion, William took the chance to slip away.

* * *

"But I have _some_ things I wish to bring along," Lizzy insisted when the servants all too anxiously began to usher her away from her friends. "There is a piece - of the stocking I was wearing that day."

And perhaps because she was now established as Miss Elizabeth de Bourgh, eldest child of their mistress and heiress to Rosings, the servants dutifully bent to her will despite their feeble protests.

It was a strange sensation to have one's orders taken so seriously.

"Mother," she turned to Lady Catherine, who was smiling at her fondly, "I am glad to be found - and honored to be restored to the family. I shall be back very quickly after gathering my things."

She looked hesitant about granting permission, but her mother nodded after a moment's pause. "Do not wander far."

It was, to a certain degree, understandable that the aging woman did not wish to see her newfound daughter leave her sight for too long.

"I shall be quick," Lizzy promised.

She was very quick, in fact, in marching out of the room - leaving two doe-eyed lovers in Richard and Anne to accompany her mother - and run for the door.

"Miss de Bourgh!" The servants called after her with her new title - a very foreign one, quite frankly.

"I won't be long. Just let me be!" She hollered back before prancing her way down the rest of the hallway.

Already, the idea of having servants surround her left and right, day and night, felt suffocating. She _needed_ some air to consider the terms of her new reality.

She had a family - at last, she did. Mrs. Hudson and Lady Catherine had agreed unanimously that she was indeed the long-lost Miss de Bourgh. The servants were immediately instructed to prepare her room, her possessions - and to arrange for a portrait and new gowns.

The very thought of having to choose new gowns _again_ made Lizzy nearly want to faint.

"William!" She called when the person was _was_ hoping to see finally emerged in her line of sight. She waved at him happily. The need to pack her things had been a guise for her true purpose - to speak to William.

She ran happily to where he was standing in the largest tree's shadow.

"William, we succeeded!" She smiled joyfully at him, reaching for his hands in celebration. He smiled softly at her. "We helped Lady Catherine and found my home."

For some unknown reason, William's smile dropped at her last word.

"Yes, we have," he concurred.

"Are you not very happy?"

"I - " He stopped as if he had nothing to say. Unlike Richard, William was never talkative - but he never fumbled over his words either.

"What is wrong?"

"I am - happy for you." His small smile returned. His fingers squeezed hers gently. "You did very, very well."

"I have been taught very well - though they haven't seen me dance yet."

She giggled. He continued to smile but did not laugh.

"You were spectacular, Lizzy - a true lady."

She felt herself warming at the compliment. "Thank you, William."

He nodded, as if still trying to convince her.

She smiled, the tensions and pressures of the past few weeks all finally rolling away. "And now that I am Miss de Bourgh, I shall make sure you and Richard never have lack of _anything_ again. I shall make sure both of you - and Georgiana - shall be well provided for."

He let out something that sounded too good-humored to be a scoff, but still sounded very much like a scoff. "It depends, Lizzy."

"But I shall have what I want - and I want to see you both have everything you deserve after having worked so hard to restore me to my family."

"Lizzy - "

"And we shall lack for nothing together." She beamed.

He breathed in, as if readying himself to speak - but then he sighed instead.

"Some things are beyond us," he said, a little too mysteriously for her tastes.

"What do you mean?"

"I - now that you are Miss de Bourgh - Lizzy," he said her name softly, as if soothing her, "there are new confines to your activities."

"What confines - what could there - " A slight sense of panic began in her. She wondered if he was hiding anything from her.

Surely, she would still be permitted to keep her friends? Richard was in love with Anne - and would probably propose soon now that he had restored Elizabeth to the family. What could possibly come in the way of William doing the same for her?

"William - "

"Go, they will look for you soon - and they would not look kindly upon finding you in conversation with me alone."

"Will - "

"Take care, Lizzy."

"But you speak as if you are saying goodbye!" She lamented loudly. She wanted to stomp her foot, but she had been told of late that the act was not ladylike. "William, tell me I shall see you again."

He looked at her quietly for a moment, his hands firmly around hers. He looked as if he was resolving something.

"William, please - "

"I shall see you - again," he agreed weakly. She couldn't help wondering if he was sincere at all.

Was this all she was to him - a task he had now completed? How was she to reconcile the withdrawn man in front of her now and the tender, romantic one who danced with her last night?

"Go, they will seek you," he urged her.

In a spurt of panic, she let go of his hands and threw herself in his arms.

"I shall miss you." She whispered against his ear.

Slowly, she felt the satisfaction of his arms holding her too. "I shall too."

Despite his promise that they would meet again, she knew that they would no longer be sharing nearby rooms after tonight. They would no longer partake of every meal together.

Suddenly, the prospect of having a family at Rosings Park did not feel quite as appealing as it did before.

"Lizzy," he whispered before pressing a kiss to her hair.

Reluctantly, she let go, blinking away stubborn tears. "I shall visit you. And I _demand_ that you visit me as well."

"Alright."

In the distance, she could hear mumblings begin. They truly would send someone for her soon.

She did not turn to look at Will once she began to walk away. She did not want him to see her cry so very unbecomingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> As for the real world, after seven long years of waiting and fertility treatments, we are anticipating the delivery of our twins anytime in the next few weeks. I will therefore have to take a temporary hiatus from producing any new content for a while. The good news is that I have a lot of chapter drafts accumulated over the years, so I will try to polish them for posting one week at a time. The quality might not be as consistent, but I hope I can still provide some entertainment for the JAFF community!


	6. Chapter 6

Two entire hours after supper, Lizzy limped into her new room, her mind swirling with a hundred thoughts. Most of those thoughts were, unfortunately, of the hopelessly trivial kind.

The meal had been a ladies' affair - with servants serving dish after dish that her new mother demanded. The servings were fancy, the ingredients posh. The silverware alone represented an entire year of the Bestons' income. Lizzy knew she ought to be thankful.

But, after weeks on the road with the unpredictable, irreverent, and even idiotic conversations of William and Richard to preside over every meal, Rosings Park's garish, formal dining room felt suffocating at worst and an ultimate bore at best.

Lady Catherine was gracious, asking questions over her years away with apparent genuine interest. Even when it was Lizzy and Anne who conversed, their mother listened intently to their every exchange. During all her years away, Lizzy had often imagined what her true family would be like. Often, she pictured humble farmers - or perhaps respectable merchants. She wished for a father who would treat her with the respect Mr. Beston never had. She hoped for a mother who nurtured, cooed, and cared.

A stilted, wealthy family with ties to nobility was the furthest thing from her wildest imaginations.

But here she was, lost child to heiress - in a matter of less than a season.

Anne grew dearer to her by the hour. Lizzy still felt in her bones the shared joy of the moment when she had publicly concurred with Anne that their cousin Richard was an outstanding young man who ought to be loved as a closest member of the family. Lady Catherine - _Mother_ \- had moved as if to disagree - but merely softened a moment later.

Lizzy was glad to have a sister.

Slowly, Lizzy undid the outer layers of her dinner dress, wandering towards the bed as she did.

"Miss de Bourgh?" The call came through the door after a small, polite knock. "Shall I enter?"

With a groan, Lizzy remembered the young girl they had introduced to her as her maid. Was she never to be left alone ever again?

"I do not need assistance tonight," Lizzy replied.

"Lady Catherine insists that we are to meet your every need."

"My needs are - met," Lizzy responded hollowly. Her room was spacious and elegant and furnished to every last inch. A dozen servants stood at her every beck and call. She had a mother, and a sister. She had a name - replete with a fascinating ancestry. She needed, so desperately, to breathe. "Leave me be."

A moment passed.

"Yes, Miss de Bourgh."

And the footsteps outside thankfully faded away.

With a large, long sigh, Lizzy rolled on top of her large canopy bed, wearing only her underthings.

She had dressed and undressed herself for more than a dozen years.

She did not need someone to help her now.

For the better half of an hour, Lizzy sat and reclined in various positions on her sizeable mattress. She tried to soothe her mind with pretty thoughts about the future. She coaxed sleep by assuring herself again and again that the events of the day were real - and not a result of her losing her mind.

When she resolved, nearly an hour after she'd retired to her room, that she simply could not sleep for the immediate present, Lizzy reached for the crimson dressing gown draped upon the nearby chaise - and wandered out the hall.

* * *

"Miss de Bourgh, are you well?"

Lizzy turned at the address. She smiled her first genuine smile since Richard and William had left Rosings.

"Mrs. Husdon." Lizzy turned from the paintings she had been perusing to meet the approaching company in the eye. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Oh, not at all." The kindly lady smiled.

For a moment, Lizzy felt almost guilty that she felt more heartened at discovering this woman from her childhood than the woman who was now confirmed to be her birth mother.

"Is sleep deluding you, child?" asked Mrs. Hudson, as if echoing the sentiments in Lizzy's mind, when she finally stepped next to the sleepless new heiress of Rosings.

Lizzy nodded shyly. "The room is - very luxurious. Perhaps I am merely unaccustomed to finer things."

Mrs. Hudson chuckled sweetly. "I understand. Rosings is spectacularly decorated. I underwent a shock as well upon my first return last season."

"You left Rosings before?"

"Yes, for my own children's sake." There was a tender, faraway look in Mrs. Hudson's eyes. The older woman faced the wall and its innumerable frames, but her eyes did not seem to see the images before her. "But my husband passed two years ago, and my two children soon followed him to heaven."

Lizzy felt her heart tighten. "My greatest sympathies, Mrs. Hudson."

"Thank you." There were tears in Mrs. Hudson's eyes when she turned to face Lizzy. "But I suppose Providence has His reasons. Without my subsequent return to Rosings, Lady Catherine might not have had the courage to search once again for you."

"It was you who thought to search?"

"It was something I said - about gathering one's children while one can." Mrs. Hudson sighed, though not harshly. "And as the one who cared for you and your cousins in your childhood, I had certain memories of certain facts that later governesses did not."

"Such as the hiding place."

"Such as the hiding place." Mrs. Hudson smiled.

A subtle hint of tears began to sting in Lizzy's eyes. How thankful she was for this spark of warmth in a cold, large, desolate house!

"Miss de Bourgh." Mrs. Hudson laid a soothing hand on Lizzy's arm when one tear escaped her.

"Please forgive me." Lizzy wiped her face with her scarlet sleeve. "I must seem entirely ungrateful."

"On the contrary, it is but natural for you to be overwhelmed."

"I have found my home, my family - and they are all foreign to me." Lizzy sniffed. Her eyes wandered again to the wall of painted faces. "I carry these people's names, but I know not one of them."

"For certain, you do, Miss de Bourgh." Mrs. Hudson smiled assuringly, just as Lizzy looked helplessly towards her.

With another smile, Mrs. Hudson gestured to the painting to her left. "See here, you and your sister pose with your father."

Lizzy scrutinized the painting with fascination. She pointed to the slightly larger girl. "That image is of me?"

"Yes."

"And Anne."

"Indeed."

"Is that our mother?" She looked at the painting above it. "In her youth?"

"That is indeed Lady Catherine, posing with her sister Lady Anne."

"Of Pemberley?"

"Yes."

"And here." She pointed to the densely populated portrait beside it. It had an old man with a brood of what much be his grandchildren. Lizzy indicated the young boy to the right. She smiled slightly. "Is that - Richard?"

"You have a keen eye, Miss de Bourgh."

"And who is - " She stopped when she realized what she was about to say. That other boy in the painting - the one with darker hair, who stood solemnly behind Richard, his intensity a stark contrast to Richard's affable smile.

Memories of how William had described his own falling out with the family reemerged in Lizzy's mind.

 _William_ emerged in Lizzy's mind.

And she missed him.

Oh, she missed him so dearly.

She could not sleep because he was so very far away.

"That is indeed the former Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy," Mrs. Hudson replied to her unfinished question.

"I see." Lizzy swallowed.

"They visited often, your cousins," Mrs. Hudson began, perhaps attempting to distract Lizzy and her fresh onslaught of tears. "You would play in the gardens and fill the nursery with laughter."

"I see."

"Miss Anne would be the princess, locked in a tower, and you, Miss de Bourgh, were always the dragon."

"I was?"

"Oh, and a fierce protector you were of your captive! Many a time, your cousins sported bruises caused by your traps."

The thought caused Lizzy to giggle. Perhaps it was vengeance that led Richard and William to instruct her so strictly these past weeks!

"And - Fitzwilliam played as well?" She ventured to ask, when Mrs. Hudson did not say more.

The kindly woman smiled, her eyes crinkling. "He was the only one to ever conquer you. You feared his dreaded dragon tattoos."

"Dragon tattoos?" Lizzy frowned, confused.

"His marks, on his body since birth. I suppose as a man now, he would conceal them. But I vividly remember how appalled the nursemaids were whenever they found him assaulting your guarded towers with his shirts unbuttoned, proudly displaying his branded pirate chest."

The image made Lizzy chuckle.

Then it made her cry.

For how was she to survive without him?

How could she ever live knowing a chain would tether her to the family - and a wall shun him away from them?

"We tried to give him the money, Miss de Bourgh," Mrs. Hudson said unprompted. "Both the men refused the reward."

"They did?"

"They both insisted - in turn, then together - that reuniting you with your family was reward enough. I always knew they had good hearts within them, those boys."

Half a minute was all Lizzy needed to muster together the words, "Thank you for your company, Mrs. Hudson. I believe I must - retire."

"Very well, Miss de Bourgh."

"Thank you."

And Lizzy turned and fled back to her room.

* * *

The candles hummed low by the time he found the strength in him to begin gathering his things. Richard was to stay another fortnight, taking every chance he could to court Anne's attentions and Lady Catherine's precarious approval. William had been invited to stay with his friend - but circumstances demanded that he remove himself as soon as he could.

His meager belongings, worth no more tonight than they did before their arrival in Kent, felt even scantier in the hollow of his traveling chest - now emptied of all the items they had purchased for Lizzy. The cavern in the wooden box echoed, poignantly, the cavern in his own chest at the prospect of leaving behind the woman for whom he had come to care so deeply.

Who could have thought, that dark night at the Bestons' inn, that he was to lose a part of his heart to the stubborn, dark-haired barmaid?

The fact that his estranged former family was now her recovered one was the cruelest twist fate could possibly conjure. No chasm of separation could be deeper, no canyon wider. Their difference in life was insurmountable.

And the last noble thing he could do for her would be to disappear from her life forever.

One day, a man worthy of her - a wealthy landowner or a member of the peer - would come to court her. He would win her with prose and dance, instead of with scowls and insults. He would command the ballroom with Lizzy in his arms, dancing the waltz as William had taught her to do, before proposing and receiving her hand in marriage. Their future would be blessed, abundant, and gloriously admired by society. The lost heiress and her rightful prince - what a powerful narrative that would be!

Rosings would be saved.

The family would recover a large part of their honor.

William blinked away the threatening tears before sighing in his lonely rented room.

Perhaps the thought that he had been the first of the family to share those timid, intimate, twirling ballroom steps with her would be the only solace he could harbor now.

A series of frantic knocks surprised him.

William twisted around to face the door, instantly at his defense.

The knocks resumed.

He glanced at the timepiece on the mantle. The hour was late. Richard had retired two hours before. There was no reason for any respectable person to be approaching him now.

The fleeting thought that a loose woman could be offering her company to him in the middle of night had William ready to empty his stomach of its contents.

"Who goes there?" William called out, firmly though not loud.

The knocking stopped.

"It is I - Lizzy."

The voice and words propelled him to action, and he strode across the room within a heartbeat.

He threw the door open - and she, to his utter shock and gratification, threw herself into his arms.

"William," she sobbed into his chest, the thin fabric of his shirt the only thing separating her skin from his. His mind struggled to comprehend what was occurring before his very eyes.

She was here - in his room - in his arms.

The newly rediscovered Miss de Bourgh was embracing a thief and a robber in the dark of the night.

Why did she come? Who did she ask to know which room he occupied? _What_ had she done to her own reputation?

Wordlessly, William stepped back with his arms still around her, pulling them into the confines of the room and closing the door before he shifted her just far away enough from his body for him to see her face.

"Lizzy, why are you here?" His voice hitched. He longed to see her, to touch her. And here she was, in all her glory, clutching him with her bare hands. His eyes wandered slightly to take in her appearance.

He almost choked at the realization that she was wearing her new coat, haphazardly buttoned, with only a nightgown underneath.

"Lizzy - "

"I missed you." She was still sniffing, still sobbing. She was distressed. Her fingers clasped firmly around his upper arms. "I wished to see you."

"You can see me another time. It is a foolish risk to come in the dead of night dressed in little more - "

"Are you - you are - leaving!" The vehemence of her words led William to trace the direction of her eyes.

A sense of guilt latched itself upon him when he saw her gaping at the packed chest beside his bed.

The grip on his arms tightened.

William swallowed.

"I - " Did he truly have any choice but to be honest with her? "I was preparing to go."

"Tonight?"

"Yes - tonight." He closed his eyes. To disappoint himself was difficult enough - to disappoint her as well was heartbreak itself.

He felt two feminine hands brace themselves on his face - and turn his visage until he faced them.

He reluctantly opened his eyes.

Her face was flushed - angry and impassioned. Her hold on his face was firm and sure. Her eyes, ever entrancing, demanded his full attention.

She was beautiful, and he lo -

" _Why_ were you attempting to leave without a word?"

If William were a nobler man, perhaps he might have been able to present her with a callous lie - telling her that his task was done, that she was little more to him that a passing acquaintance that he would readily forget.

William was _not_ a noble enough man.

"Because I love you," he said, his hands reaching around her to press her to him, "and a disgraced son of the Fitzwilliam clan can never be allowed to marry the one and only Elizabeth de Bourgh."

She stared at him with fierce, piercing eyes.

Then she kissed him, on the mouth, with the crushing strength of an army.

God forgive him - for William could not help but kiss her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want this version of Elizabeth to be the type to stubbornly go for what she wants. I hope the lead up justified her choices. Please forgive me if you catch any mistakes. Taking care of newborns is so wonderful and so exhausting!


	7. Chapter 7

He kissed her back. He kissed her with the hunger of man starved for days. He kissed her with the force of a merciless blizzard. Here she was, in all her simple radiance, eagerly expressing that she felt for him every bit what he felt for her. And he was not about to let her go.

For the following moments, she traded him kiss for kiss, step for step, sigh for sigh - and they did not part until he had her leaning back against the bedpost, trapped between him and the tempting surface of his bed.

"Lizzy," he whispered, lips by the side of her head.

"William," she whispered back - her voice heady, her smile dazzling.

How was he to ever part with her again?

"I love you as well. You must know," she said against his chest.

He pulled her closer, nearly crushing her against him. Their respective states of undress no longer bothered him. All he could think of was how to keep this bewitching woman in his life - without forcing her to lose the life she had so painstakingly recovered.

His addled mind was unfortunately coming up empty.

"Marry me," said Lizzy, a dozen heartbeats later.

Her proposed solution was the most unwelcome and most intriguing and most enticing offer he had ever had the opportunity to receive.

"How can I?" he pulled back slightly to look her in the eye. Their bodies remained attached in every other way as he cradled her face in his hand. "I have _nothing_ \- no title, no home, no money to speak of, Lizzy. As much as I wish to - with all my heart - I cannot possibly presume to marry - "

" _I_ am Elizabeth de Bourgh - lost child returned from the dead," she spoke with alarming conviction. "I shall have what I want."

"You are in love - and naive, my darling."

"I am far more acquainted with the ways of the world than you may think." Her hands tightened on his shoulders. "They have already sent a notice to the papers. My return shall be all over London before tomorrow evening."

"Yes, I am aware."

"But if they were to discover that the lost Miss de Bourgh had, after all, a husband - no one could truly blame them, could they? I have been lost for years. The notice referred to me as Miss de Bourgh only because of my relationship to my family. My true name - is Mrs. William Wicks - and have been for years."

"Lizzy - "

"Do you not wish it?" Her eyes turned slightly pleading now. "Am I alone in thinking that you desire to share our lives as much as I do?"

"No - never." He kissed her again, firmly - before drawing back to speak, "I would give anything, _anything_ , Lizzy, to gain the honor of becoming your husband. But you deserve much, much more than a deception of a marriage to a disgraced common thief."

"But you are not common - not to me. You are chivalrous and good. You are handsome and intriguing. You love me so keenly that you would rather grant me a wordless goodbye rather than risk intruding in what you believe to be the life I deserve or desire."

William returned her gaze. He wet his lips. "But you _do_ deserve it all - the jewels, the title, the proper courtship in the drawing room."

"But it is not what I desire."

His heart twisted, turned, and did many a somersault as she leaned so close that a mere hair's length separated them.

"I desire _you_ ," she said, with the cool assurance of a woman who had spent her life receiving whatever she wished. Perhaps she _was_ Lady Catherine's daughter, after all. "And nothing except your own stubbornness would ever convince me to wish for a life without you in it."

"And how shall we marry? The bans shall never pass without Lady Catherine - "

"Do we truly need the bans?"

William took one step back. His hands held on to hers. His heart raced at her implication.

"You do not mean - "

"I have been raised a barmaid," Lizzy spat. "I do not need the sanction of society to marry the man I love."

His eyes misted. What she professed - what she was saying that they do - was all at once his keenest heart's desire and his most forbidden dream.

"Will you marry me, Elizabeth?" He said, a sniff between a word or two.

"Yes." She beamed now, glorious despite her haphazard attire.

What had he done to ever deserve her?

"Scotland is far, though, my love. If we are to leave tonight, I doubt we could - "

"Then marry me - here." She stepped into his arms. Her hands locked themselves together behind his head. She kissed him soundly. He willingly complied. "As God be our witness."

"Lizzy, I can't - "

"Why not?"

And there it was in her eyes - the determination and strength that had sustained her on her own for all of these years.

It was the same strength, determination, power, and beauty that had made her so irresistible to him.

Slowly, he rested a hand on her cheek. Her skin felt cool under his warm touch.

"I have no ring - but I shall purchase one forthwith." He smiled softly. "But with my body I thee worship, my love, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

"With this ring, I thee wed," she replied with a brilliant smile. Her fingers pantomimed the act of placing a ring on his hand. "with my body I thee worship. With all my worldly goods I thee endow."

"We leave for Scotland _immediately_ , Lizzy. If we do not - "

She stopped him with a fierce, all-encompassing kiss - with wandering hands and heaving chests and unforgiving passion. He twirled them onto the bed in three large strides. Her coat, his shirt, and all remaining garments landed upon the floorboards in rapid succession. The echoes of their vows trailed through his veins. She was his. He was hers.

And here in this room, in each other's arms, the world itself did not matter.

Only they did.

* * *

"Mine - all mine." Her brand new husband whispered above her head and he nuzzled her hair.

Lizzy cherished the touch - as she did the feeling of her bare skin against the expanse of his broad chest. Their arms and legs glistened in the dim candlelight, each limb covered by a sheen of sweat from their recent vigorous activities. Each kiss had grown quickly into a dozen more, each caress morphing seamlessly into the next. The meeting of their bodies had been everything glorious, everything right, and everything profound.

"Look at me." She smiled up at the face above her. He was smiling, in a true and intimate way. "After all that preparation - I managed to remain Elizabeth de Bourgh for barely a day."

He chuckled. She laughed as well.

She kissed him just as he intertwined their fingers.

"We hail to Scotland at first light," William repeated his earlier sentiments. It was clearly an important matter to him. "I hope you can bear the coach ride."

"I have born many things in my life. To have you bearing whatever comes after tonight with me is already a greater blessing than I had ever dared to dream I would deceive." She cradled his jaw with her hand, meaning every word she spoke.

Her husband was frowning. He kissed her palm. "You deserve far better, Lizzy."

"And I have found it." She kissed him on the mouth.

Their ardor rose quickly - and her body trembled when they parted nearly half an hour later, lips and fingers lingering still.

"Dragon tattoos," she said, when her fingers traced her way down his chest.

"Hm?"

"Mrs. Hudson talked of them." She smiled at the curious look on William's face. He did look devilishly handsome. She was a fortunate woman. They both lay above the sheets, their bodies heated from the exercise. "She spoke of them as having been on you since birth."

Her husband frowned briefly. Then he nodded as if in sudden understanding. "She helped at Pemberley a few times. Now I recall. Mother was furious that Aunt Catherine insisted on visiting during Mother's confinement."

It felt strange to hear him speak of his past life - as if of a character in a book or in history. It was a life he had lived - and a life that had been cruelly taken away from him.

"Sleep, Lizzy." He kissed her brow. "We shall journey very long tomorrow."

She nodded before folding herself into his arms, her back against his chest, as he lifted and placed the thin sheet above them. Soon, her husband snored behind her.

But her mind was awake - and forming a cruel, audacious plan of its own.

* * *

"Is it too chilling?"

"I am doing well." She smiled up at her new husband - at her stubbornly responsible husband - as the coach rattled them about on its frantic way up North. "You warm me plenty."

He smiled back at her, glee and tenderness and mischief in his eyes.

She was a lucky woman.

"I shall make an honest woman of you, my love," he whispered against her hair.

"You are incorrigible."

"I suppose I am."

She smiled contentedly against his coat, her mind full of the memories of all the things she had discovered _beneath_ that coat the night before. Despite what William may think, she would have been perfectly satisfied spending their day tangled amongst the sheets, reliving their mutual exploration.

But he had insisted on the urgency of this journey, repeatedly so.

She supposed he was right. Without the legal papers to support their vows, her new family still had every opportunity to argue against the legitimacy of their union. They may explain away her bludgeoned chastity by attributing it to her lost years away, and they may force her to wed an old widow who needed only the connections or wealth of the de Bourgh estate.

She had heard plenty of stories during her years with the Bestons.

She did not wish to become one of the women in those stories.

So she attempted to write her own fate instead.

"They will pursue us. We must be quick," William muttered aloud, after another half hour had passed.

Lizzy nodded against his chest.

"I shall never leave your side, William, _never_ ," she swore.

He hugged her closer, drawing her as near to himself as he could within the confines of the rented coach.

She did not trust her tongue to say anything else.

Because she knew what he did not know. She knew of every letter she had painstakingly scribbled in the dark of the night while her sated husband snored. She knew how she had pilfered the coins from his pouch to post every all-important piece of correspondence before he waked. She knew what she had told the messengers, the innkeeper, and the coachman seated above them.

Her fingers twisted within her skirts, her anxiety rising with every passing mile.

She knew, as well, that the moment she offered up her signal, their path would instantly divert towards the estate that was Pemberley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it was all smut. And as someone who has chosen to name her twins Liam and Lizzie, it was a weird draft to go through. Lol. I think I will be using ODC's full names for any future stories! Lol.


	8. Chapter 8

He woke with a jolt, his hands flying to brace himself on the inside edges of the moving carriage. The woman beside him squealed shortly when he shoved her away.

It took William a handful of seconds, perhaps an entire minute, to note that the carriage had long stopped moving - and that the woman he had so gracelessly pushed away in his moment of groggy guardedness was his newlywed wife.

"I apologize, Lizzy." He reached out to touch her arm. She did not pull away. "I must have slept - most deeply. Did I hurt you?"

She smiled back, her face framed by her beautiful chestnut locks. She shook her head. "Do not fret. You are not quite as strong when half asleep, husband."

The way she addressed him had him smiling.

Then he squinted.

He barely recalled what had occurred during their journey North. The last thing he could remember was their stop at the inn - a brief visit to refill their supplies and to change to a sturdier carriage, one better suited for the arduous journey that had to be accomplished with utmost urgency.

How could it be possible that he - trained by years of difficult traveling - fell asleep with such utter lack of observation for the past hours? They were stopped now, and the sounds outside their carriage indicated the sounds of the North. That much he knew.

He frowned as he struggled to recall.

And then it came.

And then he recovered the foggy memory of a smiling, tentative Lizzy offering him a drink at the inn.

And he remembered how he had smiled, drunk it all, and promptly fallen asleep the moment he entered the confines of their traveling device.

He looked up. "Lizzy, why did - "

"I am sorry, William." Her ungloved fingers closed around his hand in deceptive gentleness, for her eyes were steely and determined. "But I had to - for your sake, and for mine."

She gestured towards the carriage window behind him. He slowly turned to lift the curtain.

His breath - and heart - caught in his throat.

They had indeed managed to complete a long and arduous journey.

But they were not in Scotland, not in Gretna Green.

They were in Pemberley - and the faces standing atop the grand staircase belonged to every single person he and Richard had tried so hard to make sure Lizzy knew by heart.

In fact, it was only Richard, standing beside Anne on the far right, who gave him any hope that he was not walking directly into an inquisition.

And in the center of them all, flanked by His Grace the Earl of Matlock and Lady Catherine, was George himself - the man who had proven that Fitzwilliam Darcy was nothing more than a privileged imposter since birth, a lowly illegitimate child of a steward.

William turned helplessly to his bride. He loved her - he loved her so dearly.

But what on earth could she possibly be hoping to achieve?

"Trust me," she whispered, reading his mind. "We have to try."

* * *

"What you are professing, Elizabeth, is quite outlandish," the earl stated from his seat at the center of the room. On his right, Lizzy's newfound mother listened just as intently.

With a deep breath, Lizzy replied, "I fear it is not quite as outlandish as what has _already_ occurred to our family."

"Of a formerly disowned man kidnapping a woman who would have been his cousin?"

Lizzy looked, a lump in her throat, at the two footmen that were currently restraining her seated new husband by his shoulders. On the other side of the room, two other footmen did the same to a fuming Mr. George Darcy.

If Lizzy was right - and she hoped so dearly that she was - the wicked imposter would be Mr. George Darcy no longer within the next half hour.

"Providence has led me, a long-lost child, back to the bosom of my family," Lizzy said, resuming her address to the eldest members of the family. "It may well have other plans for our Darcy cousins as well."

"George's restoration was not a trivial matter, Elizabeth." The earl's voice was regal, firm, and serene - a calm ocean harboring its powers. "We had many eyewitnesses corroborate the facts of his birth."

"And was there anyone who could confirm who those eyewitnesses were?"

Many level stares fixed themselves upon her. Lizzy swallowed, mustering the strength that she had gained during all those years in exile.

"Mrs. Hudson here." She gestured to the lady standing behind Lady Catherine. "Was present during the late Mrs. Darcy's confinement. She assisted the family through Mrs. Darcy's birth and knew how far along Mrs. Wickham was at the time. She had been increasing - but not to the point of birth."

Eyes turned toward the benevolent governess. Mrs. Hudson nodded gently.

"And beyond all that," Lizzy added, courageously pressing on, "she remembers the marks on the young boy's body upon his birth - marks that the former supposed witnesses never brought to light."

"The dragon tattoos," Mrs. Hudson whispered.

"The marks on his body?" Lady Catherine echoed.

"Anne spoke of them to me," said Lady Matlock.

"Yes - they had always been sprawled across young Mr. Darcy's chest - a providential indicator, perhaps, to mark him lest anyone should attempt to deceitfully take his place." Lizzy stood tall.

To the far left, she could hear the true George Wickham struggling against his captors.

"You stole William's birthright." Lizzy whipped around to face the man who had dictated over Pemberley the majority of the past decade. Her voice rose as her steps brought her closer to him. "You bought out accomplices - taking advantage of the fact that all the help that had been around during Mrs. Darcy's birth had died or left their posts. You engineered the circumstances to your favor - to win yourself Pemberley, Georgiana, and a life that is not yours."

Her hand flew against the evil man's cheek, slapping him soundly.

" _That_ is for the years you have stolen."

"Elizabeth, please - " Lady Catherine was speaking now. "How can you be so certain? You barely had time to know every person in this family."

"Mother," Lizzy turned as she used the address she now had to for the rest of her life, "I know _very_ well who every member of the family is. And I would not have called for such a scene without the firm belief that a usurper is currently occupying Pemberley's seat."

"These marks that you speak of - "

"I have found," Lizzy declared.

Then, with the confidence of a woman long accustomed to fighting for whatever she believed to be rightfully hers, Lizzy stalked across the room - until she stood right before William.

She met his eyes briefly, as if in warning.

Then she placed her hand on his chest - and undid his shirt with one, forceful tug.

The gasps were audible, her triumph palpable. She could feel what William was saying through the eyes - pleading that she had not gone mad, that this humiliation would not be for nothing.

Behind her, the Earl of Matlock cleared his throat. "It seems that our family has some further restoring to do."

* * *

Replacing an heir was no simple legal matter.

Restoring an heir in place of his imposter was slightly simpler - though just as extensive and tiring.

The entire past fortnight had seen Pemberley becoming a tribunal, where interview after interview had been conducted - and searches made of every room, particularly Mother's.

William observed it all as an outsider, with Lizzy by his side, as the family members convened and conferred and consulted in turn. She would inform him of certain developments ever so often. He made every attempt to remain detached.

The hope of having the life he had been raised to command - with a beloved wife and sister with whom to share it - was too delightful a prospect to take lightly. And he refused to indulge himself in any assurance until the matter had been completely settled.

By choice and instruction, he was kept far away from George. But he drew comfort from the fact that Georgiana was being equally secluded from her evil false brother.

There was one diversion in the midst of the tiresomeness of it all.

One week into their strange captivity, he and Lizzy had departed in the dark of the night, fled their way to Gretna Green, married the next day, and returned before their faked illnesses could be proven to be so. They made light of it all the day after, when Lady Matlock asked, not wrongly, why Lizzy was eating the richest foods if her stomach was truly upset. When Lizzy struggled to answer, their dear aunt had at least been kind enough to let things be.

There were quieter moments as well.

There was the evening when Richard, with an indomitable grin, informed him that Lady Catherine had approved of his marrying Anne at last. They both agreed then that the union had been made possible only by Elizabeth's recovery - and of her slowly-strengthening relationship with her mother.

The two women were different, and yet they were so very much the same.

The strength of their spirits matched in every way, even if the expression of their thoughts tended to differ.

But the miraculous recovery of one's child was a life-altering thing, it seemed, and Lady Catherine exposed gentler sides to her that no one had ever truly seen before.

It was a busy fortnight - a tumultuous, precarious one.

But it was a fortnight that ended, at last, on the cusp of colder weather.

And Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy stood where his relatives had stood half a month ago, when their rented carriage had pulled into view, and watched together as the last of the party rode away.

Soon, the family would reconvene for Richard's wedding. Soon, the papers would publish the convoluted yet deliberately-crafted story of how the true Mr. Darcy had taken upon a false identity to find his cousin all these years - and how he deserved every praise for the heroics he had displayed in braving the lower classes to recover and win his bride. It was a fantastic story, with a particularly romantic lean.

And many a young woman would swallow it whole.

But, for now, the only young woman that mattered was sleeping in her room upstairs - safe at last from the clutches of the man who was now sentenced to the gallows.

And Darcy, Fitzwilliam Darcy, finally had his wonderful wife to himself.

* * *

_**One Year Later** _

* * *

"I can hardly believe it's been an entire year since I was first presented to the household here," she mused, head against her husband's chest, as they surveyed the view of Rosings Park's garden. She felt his arms wind themselves more tightly around her waist. She smiled as she rested her hands on his forearms. "How thoroughly things have changed, my love."

"Indeed." He kissed the top of her head. Her smile deepened.

There had been many, many moments when she found herself more than grateful for how he towered over her. As a woman who once had to fend for herself, to guard her own body, for the better part of her life - there was a degree of incomparable comfort in being surrounded by the warmth of a man she loved, to be secure in his heart and his embrace.

They may be visiting for Anne's wedding, but - nestled as she was in her husband's arms - Elizabeth had never felt more like a bride herself.

"I must say I commend Richard for his patience. Who knew he had it in him to wait a year for this marriage?" Fitzwilliam spoke with a smile in his voice. She knew he missed his wandering days with Richard, at times. There was a restlessness to him whenever he rode his favorited steed on a windy day. There were times when Elizabeth herself would eye the servants as they cleaned Pemberley's endless furniture and feel that she would be faster and better at the task herself.

But those moments of wistfulness ended, more often than not, with a profound appreciation of the life they _had_ earned - and a newfound determination to revel in the blessings they now possessed.

"I suppose he couldn't argue with Mother that Anne had much recovering to do," Elizabeth replied, her fingers trailing on her husband's arm, "She had been confined to the house for so many years."

"They have the patience of a saint." Fitzwilliam sighed. "I must say, Lizzy, that I am most heartily thankful that you and I were of the more decidedly rash sort."

Elizabeth laughed - joyfully, blissfully. She turned around to loop her arms around her husband's neck. She most certainly appreciated how he liked to favor his shirtsleeves until he truly had no choice but to put on the rest of his stifling clothes. Men's fashion had no respect for the beauty of their subjects' bodies. At least ladies' apparel was designed to present the feminine figure in its most flattering light.

"Are you calling me wanton, darling husband?"

"Yes, wickedly so." There was that glint in his eyes again - the one she first witnessed the day he assisted her with her new wardrobe at the inn - and the one she had come to intimately appreciate in the past year. "I am helpless under your spell."

"I must apologize for tying you to such a miserable life, good sir."

"And _I_ must beg your pardon for being such a happy victim of your wiles."

She giggled. He laughed. And they drank of each other's kisses for a delightful hundred heartbeats.

"We shall have been married a year by tomorrow," she said, breathlessly, with their foreheads pressed to each other, when they parted. "I shall be usurped by my sister as the bride of the family soon enough."

"Nonsense, the law begs to differ. We have been married a few days shy of a year."

"You can be most stubbornly particular at times, husband."

"And you - most fetchingly distracting. I hardly remember what we were arguing over."

She laughed, and she kissed him. " _You_ are a very wise man."

"Thank you. It is all due, I'm afraid, to the very wise woman I have married."

"Ah, the shameless one."

His eyes darkened, portending what he was about to do to her before they were summoned for dinner. His smile was as handsome today as it was when they danced in the clearing in the woods. "How fitting then - that I am quite shameless as well. There are things, after all, that the master of Pemberley may not do - that an unethical thief would be glad to attempt."

"And what shall this thief attempt to steal this afternoon?"

"Hm." He nuzzled her neck. "A cry, a moan, a gasp or two - or all three in generous servings."

And she was very glad to prove to him just how generous they each could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for going through this story with me! For all who are curious, I actually have a few dozen chapters of different stories drafted that I am just polishing and posting once a week. I wish I had time to write while wrangling the precious twins, but I just don't! Hehe. Thank you for every kudos, bookmark, comment, and subscribe!


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